


Concerning Myself and The First Friend I Had

by tcwordsmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi, eventual Sam Winchester/ Jessica Moore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean really means to settle down in Palo Alto with Sammy, find an apartment, and get a job. Honest, he does. But when the open road and an old…friend call to him, who is he to refuse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to explain myself about this fic, and I know I don't need to but here goes anyway. This is an AU of an AU I wrote for my 2012 NaNo. I'll eventually clean that up and post it, and then this might...At least have more back story? But, yeah. This is an AU of that and I really love both of the stories and I know I should probably stop but I won't. I hope you enjoy it!

“Come see me,” Jimmy demands, “Sam’s settled in finally, you’re between jobs, and I’m taking the semester off.  We could go on that road trip you promised me senior year.” He wedges the cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he continues dealing with the pre dinner rush prep work.  To his dismay, tomatoes remain largely incapable of slicing themselves.

Dean sighs as he shoves his way into yet another motel room, being careful not to use his left side too much. “I would if I could, Jim; you know that.  But, it’s his first semester, Sammy might need me.  Plus, I’m between jobs; which means I should probably work on findin’ one.” He tosses his duffel bag on the chair and gingerly sinks down onto the bed.

“So you did find an apartment?” Jimmy asks.  He sounds surprised; Dean hates that he sounds surprised.  It’s like he thinks Dean can’t put down any kind of roots.

“Well, no, but I _should_ find one.  Sammy’s in the dorms; he can’t stay there over the summer,” Dean grouses.  He realizes if he wants to take his boots off he’ll have to sit back up, but that sounds like it will be more painful than it’s worth.  The boots will just stay on.

Jimmy laughs, shutting the prep refrigerator door with his hip, “You said Sam said he was taking summer classes; so he’ll probably stay on campus anyway.  Just come out. I know Illinois isn’t nearly as warm as Colorado, but Normal has a little more to do than Black Hawk did.  Besides, you should meet Lys. She’s amazing.”  Dean hears the hustle and bustle of the kitchen Jimmy works in, and the sound of a woman laughing. “Oh,” Jimmy says, “She says I’m overselling her.  Apparently, she’s nowhere near as amazing as the infamous Dean Campbell.”

Dean likes the way his name sounds in Jimmy’s mouth; soft around the edges, like something Jimmy wants to protect and maybe even hold on to. “Well, I guess Sammy will be busy with school and all.  You ever been to Vancouver in the fall?” He scratches his head and shifts on the bed. Fuckin’ lumpy motel beds. Fuckin’ black dogs and their goddamn teeth.

“Vancouver? I’ve never been to Canada at all,” Jimmy replies, raising his voice as the din in the kitchen grows louder. “C’mon, Dean, come introduce me to our illustrious neighbors to the north.”

“I reckon I could manage that,” Dean nods and picks absently at a thread in the comforter.  He hasn’t been to Canada since that last Yeti sighting two years ago.  And if Jimmy’s never been, it’d be worth it to show him. “Okay then, Novak.  Get your shit together; I’m two or three days out.”

Jimmy grins from ear to ear, “You got it, Campbell. I’ll see you in three days or less. I gotta go, Lys’s about to tear her hair out and that’s against at least five OSHA regulations.”

“Bye,” Dean murmurs, flopping his hand onto the bed with the phone still in it. Sammy might not need him, strictly speaking, but he’s gonna be pissed that Dean is leaving again.  He’s supposed to be putting down some roots, not taking off so much anymore.  He sighs and punches the “2” key on his phone.  This sort of thing always calls for food; preferably steak.

“Sam Winchester,” Sammy picks up on the second ring.

“Damn it, Sammy, you gotta stop doing that,” Dean admonishes him, “You’re Sam Campbell there, remember?” He sighs again because bitching at Sammy over the name thing isn’t the best way to open this particular conversation.

“Hey to you too, jerkface,” Sammy laughs, “Didn’t I see you, like, two hours ago?”  Dean had dropped by Sam’s dorm as soon as he got into town after helping John and Bobby with a pack of black dogs near Sioux Falls. It was sort of a semi-retirement party for Dean, except only Bobby wished him luck at the end of the week.  John stopped speaking to him three days into the hunt.

Dean shrugs, “Yeah, but I figured a hollow leg like you’ve got means you’re probably hungry by now.  Wanna hit the Logan’s off Highway Five?” He scratches his nose and sits up carefully; he hopes Sam won’t figure out something is up.

“What’s wrong, Dean? You’re not goin’ on another hunt already, are you?” Sam’s voice is suspicious.  Of course he’s suspicious when there’s steak on offer; damn kid’s gonna be a lawyer someday.

“Nothin’s wrong, bitch, I just wanna take my favorite brother out for a steak,” Dean growls, standing up and checking his weapons.  He probably doesn’t need all of them, strictly speaking, but he isn’t comfortable going anywhere without some kind of protection.

“Fine, okay. I could go for a steak, _only_ brother,” Sam agrees cautiously.

Dean grins broadly, “Awesome. I’ll be there in ten,” he sniffs himself, “Eh, make that twenty. I still smell like slobber and grave dirt.”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam whines. Dean just laughs.

“Just get ready, alright kiddo?” He replies.  Sam hangs up on him instead of answering.  Dean shrugs and drops the phone on the bed.  He definitely needs that shower.

Twenty minutes later, Dean is clean and charming his way back into Sam’s dorm.  Sure, he could probably just call Sammy and get the kid to come down, but he never passes up an opportunity to flirt a little.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean smiles at a co-ed with blonde curls and blue eyes, “My idiot brother’s left me stuck outside an’ I gotta get him for dinner.  You think you could help me out and let me inside?” He pulls his hands out of his jacket pockets and turns up the smile another couple of notches.

She bites her lip and flips her keys, “Who’s your brother?”

Dean nods; at least she isn’t stupid, “Sam Campbell.  I’m Dean Campbell.  He’s up on the third floor. I swear I just need to drag him out to dinner.  He’s only been here what, like two weeks, and he’s hittin’ the books like they’re gonna disappear if he don’t use ‘em.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tries to look less rough around the edges.

The girl chews her lip and looks from Dean to the door and back again, “Promise you’re not some creepy stalker? Because, if you are, I’ve got mace and I’m not afraid to use it!”  Dean chuckles.

“I swear I’m not a creepy stalker.  Just a concerned big brother,” he spreads his hands wide in supplication and she finally nods.

“Okay. I’ll let you in then,” she turns and unlocks the door.  He follows her inside before the door shuts again.

“Thanks, miss—” he starts.

“I’m Jess,” she offers over her shoulder.  She presses the “Up” button on the elevator.

Dean gives her another wide grin, “Thanks Jess. I appreciate it.” He rocks back on his heels and waits with her for the elevator.

The short ride up is quiet, but comfortably so.  They just don’t have any reason to say much.  “Well, this is my stop too,” Jess says awkwardly when they both get off on the third floor.

Dean nods, “Alright; thanks again, Jess. Hey,” he thinks of something, “If you need help with anything, just look my brother up, okay? Sammy Campbell, 322. He’s a good kid.” She smiles and nods and he turns toward Sammy’s room.

Two minutes and one picked lock later, Dean stretches out on Sammy’s bed in his dorm.  He grins when the doorknob turns, but it isn’t Sam walking through.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The kid shouts. He drops his books and all of his loose papers scatter.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m Sam’s brother. I’m just here to take him to dinner,” Dean tries to placate the kid.  He watches as the younger guy drags an inhaler out of his pocket and wheezes a little.

After he takes a puff and coughs, he looks at Dean, “You’re Dean then? S-sorry, I just startle easily.” He drops the inhaler back in his pocket and starts picking up his books.  Dean scrambles off the bed to help him with the loose papers.

“Yeah, sorry dude, I thought Sammy would be here when I got here. You must be Andy, huh?” Sam mentioned his roommate’s name was Andy, but Dean hadn’t seen the guy when they moved Sam into the dorm.  He hands probably-Andy the stack of papers he’s gathered and gives him a sweet smile.

Probably-Andy nods, “Yup, Andy Gallagher.  Sam said you might drop in, but he didn’t have a picture or anything.” He tosses the stack of books and papers onto a nearby desk before dropping onto the other bed and digging around under his pillow. “You mind?” He asks, holding up a joint and a lighter.

Dean raises an eyebrow but shakes his head, “Nah, knock yourself out. Or chill out, whatever.”  He sits back on the bed and cocks his head to one side, “You got any idea where Sammy got to? I told the punk I’d be here in twenty minutes.”

Andy shakes his head as he lights up, “Nope,” he says around an inhale, “Haven’t seen him all day.” He already looks a little mellower as he exhales.  Dean smiles and shakes his head just as the door opens again.

“Damn it, _Andy_ , we both signed that roommate agreement!” Sammy growls as he pushes into the room.  Andy yelps and stubs the joint out in his hand, tossing it and the lighter back under his pillow.

“Yes, yes we did, I remember—I distinctly recall that now, and I am so sorry, Sam!” Andy nods and apologizes.

Dean rolls his eyes, “You put ‘no toking’ on your roommate agreement, Sammy?” After all, it isn’t like the brothers Winchester have never inhaled.

Sam’s eyes narrows, “Yes I did, Dean. No toking in the room because the smoke detector detects all kinds of smoke.” He waves a hand at the smoke detector by the door and tosses his bag at his bed, catching Dean in the stomach.

“Ow, bitch,” Dean winces and tosses the bag on the floor.

“Serves you right, jerk.  Breakin’ into the room like that,” Sam rolls his neck and flops half on the bed and half onto Dean, his elbow landing dangerously close to Dean’s crotch.

Dean ruffles Sam’s hair, “Watch the jewels, baby bro. C’mon,” he pushes at Sam’s shoulder, “We gotta get heading.”  Sam groans and relaxes his entire body so he’s 200 pounds of dead weight on Dean.

“But I’m tired, Dean,” he whines, “I’ve been at the library all day.”

“Yeah, your favorite place in the fuckin’ world; no one’s ever been too tired for steak,” Dean grabs him under the armpits and hoists him off the bed as he stands up.  Andy seems content to just watch them be idiots.

“Fine. No teasing me for getting a salad though,” Sam insists as Dean continues to propel him out the door.

Dean shakes his head, “No self respecting Campbell gets salad with steak, Sammy.” Andy laughs. “Good meetin’ ya, Andy; don’t burn down the dorm,” Dean calls over his shoulder. He uses his boot to kick the door closed behind them.

Five minutes later, they’re downstairs and outside, heading for the Impala. Sam knocks his shoulder against Dean’s and shakes his hair out of his eyes, “Alright, Dean. Why are you springing for steaks?”

“Y’know, Sammy, it’s impolite to use your super powers on your family,” Dean jokes, unlocking the Impala and sliding into the driver’s seat.  Sam ducks down and folds himself into the passenger side.

“Only when the person I’m using the super powers on doesn’t have them too,” he counters.  Dean nods and turns the key in the ignition.

“Fine. We gotta talk about somethin’ is why I’m springin’ for steaks,” he admits. He hears more than sees Sam groan and knock his head against the window. “It’s not a hunt; I swear!” Dean hurries to say.

Sam’s inevitable bitch face is not something Dean’s gonna miss; he’s cataloguing them all, for future reference, “Not a hunt? Since when does the great Dean Winchester ditch out for anything other than a hunt?  Is it a girl?”

“We’ll talk about it at dinner, Sammy,” Dean insists, turning up the AC/DC tape and tuning out his brother’s indignation.


	2. Chapter 2

At the steakhouse, Sam decides to sulk in the car instead of following Dean inside.  Dean learned a long time ago the fastest way to get Sam back on the same page is to just ignore his attitude issues  and act like it doesn’t matter if he does what Dean wants or not.

“I guess you really did have a brother then, huh?” A voice teases when Dean enters the restaurant.

He squints and looks around. The blonde curls at the hostess’s stand finally catch his eye, “I do indeed actually have a hungry brother.  You work here, Jess?” Dean grins broadly and steps up to the stand.

“That’d be why I’m behind the hostess station, Mr. Campbell.  Can I get you a table for two?” Jess returns the grin and marks something down on a sheet in front of her.

Dean shrugs, “Only if Sammy gets over his sulk and comes in.  If he don’t, I guess you could join me though.” The wink that accompanies the offer is practically involuntary.

Jess rolls her eyes, “I don’t make a habit of eating with strangers, Mr. Campbell.”

Dean bites his lip and grins, “I’m not a stranger though; you know my name an’ everything.” Sam chooses this moment to get over his sulk. “Looks like the Sasquatch decided to eat after all; maybe I’ll have better luck next time,” Dean smiles.

“Right this way, Misters Campbell, I know just the place,” Jess grabs a couple of menus and crooks her finger at the boys.  Sam’s eyes widen comically.

“How does she know our name, Dean?” he hisses at his brother as they follow the hostess.

Dean nods at her back, “That there is Miss Jess.  She let me into your dorm earlier, sweetest thing, so I could bring your bean pole ass here.  I didn’t know she worked here when I picked the place.” He shrugs, “I figured if she knew my name, she’d be more willing to let me in and I wouldn’t have to wait around for your slow ass.” Sam is definitely giving him bitch face number three; even in the dimly lit restaurant Dean can tell.

“Here we are, gentlemen,” Jess smiles politely and waves at the booth, “a booth near the back.  Your server will be with you shortly, you should ask him about the daily specials; you won’t be disappointed.” She winks at the pair of them and goes back to her station.

Dean grins at Sam, “Dude, you gotta talk to her. She’s funny and smokin’ hot.”

Sam just rolls his eyes, “Dean, don’t try to set me up with the random girl you met while breaking into my dorms. That’s creepy.”  Dean shrugs and opens his menu.

“So,” Sam says a few minutes later.  They’ve ordered their meals and have a basket of steaming hot rolls sitting between them, “Why’d you spring for steaks?”

Dean sighs and takes a drink of his beer, “Because, numb nuts, I wanted to take you out to dinner. It’s my first night in the city and all. Celebratin’ that and you know, not dying last week seems like good enough reason to me.”

Sam wrinkles his nose and squeezes his lemon into his water, “Yeah, but we usually celebrate that with a pizza and a six pack. Not steaks. What, did you end up in the hospital and not tell me?” His hand stills and he looks at Dean with wide eyes. “Tell me you didn’t end up in the hospital and not tell me, Dean.”

“No, bitch, I didn’t end up in the hospital and not tell you,” Dean rolls his eyes but he squirms.  He really can’t put this off any longer.  “But. Well. Do you remember Jim? He called me today,” he sucks his lower lip into his mouth and plays with the condensation on his bottle.

Sam pauses before taking a drink of his water and quirks up one of his eyebrows, “Jim? You mean Jimmy Novak from…Colorado?” Understandably, he sounds a bit bewildered.

Dean nods, “Yeah, except he’s in Illinois now.” He rolls the bottom of his bottle against the table and doesn’t quite look at Sam.

“So…Of all the people we’ve ever met, you kept in touch with Jimmy Novak? What were we even, ten and fourteen back then?  You haven’t seen him in like ten years or something,” Sam’s brow furrows and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“Sixteen and twelve.  Well, no, maybe I haven’t seen ‘im that much, but we kept up.  Always made sure I gave him the new cell number, got a couple of letters from him at Bobby’s when we stayed the summer after I dropped out of school,” Dean shrugs, abandoning his beer to shred a roll.

“Really?” Sam sounds surprised, “I mean, I…Didn’t think you really kept up with anyone we’ve met.”

“I don’t usually, but, Jimmy kept up with me.  Really insistent bastard, honestly.  He musta texted like twice a day for a month after we left Black Hawk.  He made me promise not to lose contact and everything.  I got my GED the same year he graduated, because we made a deal about it. Well, I promised I’d stay in school as long as he did,” Dean pops a couple of shreds of the roll into his mouth so he can have an excuse to shut up already.

Sam nods, “O…Okay. So, he called, which is apparently not at all strange or noteworthy, and what?” He takes a roll and the butter, carefully slicing the roll in half and buttering it lightly.  Dean snorts.

“Oh, well,” he shrugs again, rolling a piece of bread into a ball between his fingers, “He wants me to come out and see him again.  We thought we might take a road trip or somethin’.” Dean decides not to mention the ‘to Canada’ part of that equation just yet.  Canada hadn’t been a fond memory for all of the Winchesters.

Sam’s eyebrows really can’t go any higher on his head, “You’re going to go on a road trip with a guy you haven’t seen in several years?”

Dean sighs, “I’ve seen ‘im, Sammy.  Every time we went through Colorado until he moved to Illinois.  Then I saw him once or twice when we were on a hunt out near his school.  It’s only been a couple years since I saw him last. And yeah, we’re gonna go on a road trip.”

“Does he remember about…?” Sam trails off, not really wanting to bring up hunting with so many civilians nearby.

“Yes, he remembers. He’s the one who tipped us on some of those hunts after we left,” Dean says, shredding the roll even further. “Sure as shit Bobby wasn’t gonna send us again.”

Sam nods, “So…Are…Were you two…Lovers?” He stumbles over the question and seems to shrink back against the booth. Sam dislikes upsetting Dean and knows his sexuality is often a sore spot for him.

Dean glares at the table and shakes his head, “Lovers? That’s what you went for first? Sammy, Jim’s my buddy. It’s not like that anymore.”  He groans. He never can leave well enough alone.

“Anymore?” Sam squeaks, dropping his roll back onto his plate.

“Yeah, _Samantha_ , anymore. As in, there was a time where we coulda been or mighta been, but we definitely aren’t now,” Dean’s tone is decidedly snarky.

Sam holds his hands up in surrender, “I know what you meant, Dean. I just didn’t know we were talkin’ about it now.”

“We,” he gestures between them with a piece of roll, “Aren’t discussing it at all. You brought it up, Sam,” Dean points out.

“I guess I did. Okay, sorry, good for you, or…I’m sorry you’re not together now?” Sam really wishes he knew how to get his foot back out of his mouth.

Dean grunts and the food arrives.  They’re both relieved to have an excuse to stop talking and hopefully just drop the subject. Touchy feely conversations aren’t Dean’s idea of a good time, and this subject has taken a definite turn for the touchy and feely.

Dinner passes without much comment.  “Dude, they have pie!” Dean’s face lights up as he looks over the dessert menu.

“You gonna get some then?” Sam asks while rubbing his stomach and wishing he’d ate a little less.

“No shit I’m gonna get some.  Always save room for pie,” Dean intones, as if he was gifting Sam with a pearl of wisdom.  With that, Dean snags the waiter as he passes the table and put in the order.

“And a coffee,” he calls after the guy. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Okay,” Sam says, “So, you and Jimmy are gonna go on a road trip for how long?”

Dean shrugs and slumps a little in his booth, “I don’t know, for a couple of weeks maybe? He’s takin’ the semester off school, and I guess quitting his job. So we’re gonna play it by ear.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, “And where are you going?”

“Canada,” Dean replies begrudgingly.

Sam’s eyes widen, “Canada? You’re going on an indeterminately long road trip with a guy you’ve not seen in a couple of years and you’re going to another country? One with,” he lowers his voice, “One with _yetis_. Dean, c’mon.”

“Yes, Sammy, road trip to Yeti country. I’ve already got my passport made up from that yeti in the Yukon job a while back,” Dean sits up again and squares his shoulders.

“Is this why you haven’t found an apartment yet?” Sam asks; his voice suddenly sounds very small.

“No, Sam. Jim asked me to come see him and pointed out I haven’t found an apartment yet. This is just because I promised him a road trip for his senior year and never got to deliver on it.  Plus, he’s never been to Canada before,” Dean says, taking the pie from the server with a smile.

“And you’re comin’ back? And getting an apartment and stuff?  Settling down a little?  You won’t go looking for hunts while you’re up there?” Sam twists his napkin in his lap and watches condensation drip down his water glass.

Dean swallows a bite of pie, “’Course I’m comin’ back, Sammy. An’ when I get back I’ll find a place and I won’t hunt near as much as I have been.  I can look for a garage to work in or somethin’, make an honest living.  And I’ll only hunt up there if I can’t get out of it.” He smiles winningly.  He won’t want to hunt with Jimmy there anyway; the guy isn’t a hunter and Dean plans on keeping it that way.

Sam nods, “Okay then.  Did you tell Bobby yet?” Dean knows he won’t ask if he’s told John; just like John hadn’t asked how Sam was settling in at school.

“No, I just found out I was goin’ like maybe an hour ago. I wanted to talk to you about it before anyone else,” Dean replies.  Feeling generous, he cuts a portion of his pie and puts it on a clean corner of Sam’s plate.  Sam smiles.

“Okay, Dean,” he murmurs, eating the piece of pie.  Dean absolutely does not share his pie, so Sam figures Dean is trying to make him feel better.

“And I’ll have my phone and if you need me you just have to let me know and I’ll be back before you blink.  I know I’m not stayin’ right now, but I ain’t gonna leave you totally alone out here,” Dean assures Sam.

Sam nods, “I appreciate it.  I think I’ll be okay though; as long as Andy quits smoking in the dorm room.”

“Still. I’m always just a phone call away,” Dean insists. “Here,” he thumbs out some cash to cover the bill, “Why don’t you go pay while I finish up and we’ll get headed?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Fine. But don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.” Dean shrugs and tries to look innocent. Sam sighs and grabs the bill, heading for the register and Jess.

Dean drops Sammy off at his dorm after dinner.  “Alright, kiddo,” he says when he parks, “I’m headin’ out tonight.  You gonna be okay?”

Sam stops with his hand on the door handle, “You’re leaving tonight? You just got back from a week long hunt, Dean.  You went up against an entire pack of black dogs.  Shouldn’t you, you know, rest or whatever?” He takes his hand off the handle and slumps against the door.

“You know I like bein’ out on the road and a three day drive is relaxing for me,” Dean replies, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Besides, the sooner I go out there, the sooner I’ll be back.  Then I can be around to bug you all the time.” He turns and gives Sam a wide smile.

“Fine. Get out of the car then,” Sam demands, opening his door and getting out.

Dean raises his eyebrow, but does as he’s asked.  As soon as he steps out of the car, gingerly and constantly aware of his still tender ribs, Sam is around the end of it and hugging him like his life depends on it.  Dean feels the wind get knocked out of him, “Hey, kiddo,” he grunts, hugging Sam back just as tight, “It’s just a road trip.  I’ll be back and annoying the piss outta you before you even know I’m gone.”  Sam just hugs him even tighter.

After a minute, he lets go and steps back.  Dean does his best to keep the wince off his face. “Sorry, I know, I just,” Sam shrugs helplessly and sniffs a little, “I wasn’t expecting to be on my own again so soon, you know?” He isn’t going to wipe his eyes; he doesn’t need to damn it.

Dean sighs and pulls Sam back in for another hug, grousing inwardly about how much taller than him the kid already is. “You’ll be fine, Sammy.  You coulda come out here all by yourself and been just fine without me.  An’ it’s not forever, just for a little while.” He pulls back and gives Sam a smacking kiss on the cheek, “Somehow I don’t think you’ll miss your obnoxious older brother that much, dude.” He winks and leans back against the Impala.

Sam rolls his eyes and wiped his cheek, “Jerk.”

“Go on, bitch, make sure Smokey didn’t light up the whole room,” Dean grins and slips back into the Impala.  Sam knocks gently on the roof of the car and takes off for the dorms.   He’ll be okay; maybe he’ll even talk to that Jess chick.  Dean leaves the parking lot and heads for the interstate.  There are plenty of miles between Palo Alto and Columbus, and he intends to enjoy every single one.


	3. Chapter 3

He and the Impala eat up the miles between California and Illinois like they’re nothing.  He’s still pretty sore after sitting in the car so long on the first day, so Dean thinks he’ll definitely make it a three day trip, by the second he calls Jimmy and lets him know he’s going to stretch it out a bit.  Besides, it can’t hurt to hunt up a couple of pool games to finance some of this trip.  He’s sure they could end up staying longer than either of them thinks, and Dean knows how fast money tends to go on a trip.  Especially a trip no one has really been planning for.  Oh, sure, he has a few places he wants to show Jimmy once they are in Canada, but Dean isn’t a fan of strict time tables.  Things take as long as they take, and sometimes they take a little longer than that.

A week after his steak dinner with Sammy, he rolls into Normal, Illinois.  It may not be much to look at, a typical Midwestern city full of too many old buildings, older houses, and old people who can’t remember how to drive.  But it’s where Jimmy has decided he wants to settle down, at least for a while. Dean can respect that, really, even if settling down will never be his thing.  He parks at a local diner and texts Jimmy.

                                D: _made it 2 Normal. Where 2 now?_

It doesn’t take long for Jimmy to reply:

                                J: _where are you now?_

                                D: _Nate’s Diner. The one w a Circle K attached_

                                J: _Remember where my apartment is?_

                                D: _Y. c u there?_

                                J: _I get off in 20. Lys might be home_

                                D: _Ok_

Dean isn’t sure he necessarily wants to talk to Lys, but he knows he doesn’t want to wait around in a random parking lot until Jimmy gets done with his shift if he can help it, so he heads for the apartment complex.  Ten minutes later, he’s parked and up the stairs, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and most of his weapons stashed in the false bottom of the trunk.  Before he can knock on the door, it opens.

“Dean!”  A short, smiley blonde greets him at the door, “You made it! I’m Lys! Jimmy said you remembered the place!”  She swings the door open wider, “Come on in; I’ve got a couple of tall ones with your name on them.”  Dean blinks and then follows Lys inside and shuts the door.

“You can just toss that anywhere,” she grins again when she stops in the kitchen, “Here you go, still cold.” Lys hands him a beer which he pops the cap off of gratefully.

“Thanks,” he lets his bag drop by the door and tips the neck toward her before taking a drink. “So,” he sits the beer down on a counter, “You’re Lys.  And you know who I am?”

Lys opens her own beer and nods as she takes a drink, “Yup, Alyssa Connors, but everyone calls me Lys.  You’re Dean Campbell.  Jimmy talks about you a lot.”  She turns and heads out of the kitchen, “C’mon, you’ve been sitting in that car all day; the couch has to be more comfortable than standing around in the kitchen!”  Dean shakes his head, grabs his beer and follows her into the other room.

“Jim talks about you too,” he offers once they’ve sat down.  He takes another drink of his beer, more for something to do than because he’s thirsty.

“That makes sense, I mean, we work together and I’m his roommate,” Lys shrugs and sinks into her end of the couch as she pulls her feet up underneath herself.

Dean nods, “Yeah? And his…?” He trails off, not actually sure he wants to know if Lys is anything else to Jimmy.

Lys smiles kindly, “And his friend. I’m his coworker and his roommate and his friend.” She absently picks at the label on her bottle.  Dean nods.

“So he’s…” He doesn’t really know why he keeps almost asking her this stuff; it feels awkward enough sitting in her apartment with her without Jimmy there too.

She shrugs, “He’s Jimmy.  He’s rarely serious about anything; and definitely not serious about anyone anymore.”  She takes a drink and pointedly does not look at Dean when she says the last part.

Dean winces a little, “Not anyone at all?” Now he’s picking at his own label; they’re each well on their way to being little balls of anxious actions.

“Well, there was this one person, there always is yanno,” Lys glances over at Dean, “And I guess Jimmy decided if he couldn’t be serious about them he just wouldn’t be serious about anybody.” Dean slumps back into the couch.

“I didn’t mean to—” he starts to say, but the door to the apartment squeaks and cuts him off.

“Hello! I’m home! Any transients and lushes that might wanna say hey to me?” A voice calls from the doorway.

“Hey, asshole, there’s a beer on the counter for you, we’re in here. Don’t be a lazy shit,” Lys shouts back.

Dean grins but didn’t say anything himself.  He listens to Jimmy rustling around in the kitchen and tries not to notice Lys staring.  A few minutes later, Jimmy comes into the living room.

“Dean Campbell! You get your ass off that couch and gimme a hug damn it,” Jimmy demands, setting his beer down and opening his arms.

Lys smirks and Dean rolls his eyes.  “Hey, Jim,” he murmurs, setting down the beer and getting up.  Jimmy just stands there with his arms wide open until Dean gets over to him and folds him up into a hug.

“It has been way too damn long, Winchester,” Jimmy whispers.  Dean just nods, his head hooked over Jimmy’s shoulder.  It really has been too long; he can’t remember the last place he was Winchester and not Campbell.  Jimmy lets go first, but just slips one of his hands down to fold around one of Dean’s hands.  “Lys!” Jimmy grins, “This is J. Dean Campbell. He’s come to whisk me away to exotic Canadia forever.” Alyssa laughs and Dean grins.

“Well, not forever,” Dean amends, sitting back down and pulling Jimmy along with him.

“We’ll see,” Jimmy jokes.

Lys tries to keep a straight face, “It’s nice to meet you, J. Dean Campbell.” She holds out for a whole minute before giggling.

“Are you tired, Dean?” Jimmy asks suddenly. “I’m tired, I wanna go to bed. I had to work a double today and customers are bitches,” he drops his head onto Dean’s shoulder and turns to look up at Dean.

Dean tries to look at Jimmy out of the corner of his eye while finishing his beer, but utterly fails. “I…Could sleep,” he said, setting his bottle on the floor. 

Jimmy brightens visibly, “Yay, sleep! I call dibs on sharing a bed with Dean.” Lys rolls her eyes.

“You two are clearly suffering from a case of being too old. I was just here to babysit the road warrior; I’m hitting the club,” she bounces off the couch and smiles, “Have fun…Sleeping.” Lys calls as she grabs her keys off of a hook by the door.

“We will; don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Jimmy calls back.  Dean figures he doesn’t need to say anything.

“Well,” Jimmy says, squeezing Dean’s hand before getting off the couch, “Now that that’s all settled, let’s settle a little more.” He bends over Dean to grab the empty he left on the floor and whisks Lys’s off the coffee table before making his way into the kitchen.  Dean blinks; even tired Jimmy is still a veritable whirlwind of activity.  He stands up and follows the other man into the kitchen.

Jimmy sticks his own beer back in the refrigerator and places the empties in the sink, “Deal with those later!”  He scoops up the strap of Dean’s duffel bag and dances out of the way when Dean tries to grab it from him.  “Ah, ah, you’re a guest, you’re not gonna lift a finger.  Well, not yet, anyway,” Jimmy winks and takes off for the bedroom.

“C’mon, Jim,” Dean grouses, following him down a hallway.  Jimmy grins and opens the only door at the end of the hall. 

“Mi casa, es tu casa.” He flips a light switch and leads Dean inside.  Then he gently places the bag in a chair by the door and turns to face Dean. “You,” he said, taking the open sides of Dean’s jacket in his hands and pulling the slightly taller man closer, “Are wearing entirely too many clothes.”  Dean blushes.

“Is that right?” Dean drawls, placing one hand on Jimmy’s hip as he tries to read the situation.

Jimmy nods, “For sure. I count four layers, mister.  It’s not even November yet; why would you need four layers?” He tugs the jacket off and tosses it over the arm of the chair.

Dean shrugs, “I always layer. There’s less stuff to pack if I’m wearin’ it.”  But he shrugs out of his over shirt as he says it.  Jimmy grins and tucks his fingers between Dean’s belt and his jeans, stepping toward the bed and pulling Dean along with him.  Jimmy’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down, tugging Dean between his legs.

“Well, I’m afraid that’s entirely too sensible for this bedroom, Mr. Winchester,” Jimmy murmurs, tugging up on the hem of Dean’s Henley.

“You think so?” Dean grins but it mostly gets lost as he tugs the shirt over his head and tosses it in the general direction of his button down.

Jimmy laughs, “Jesus Christ, Dean, I thought I was joking about the four layers, but an undershirt too?” He tugs on the hem of the A frame shirt and grins.

Dean smiles helplessly, “Layers are serious business, Novak.” He makes no move to take off the undershirt though; it’s been a couple of years and he has more than a few new scars.  Scars are never something Dean is in a hurry to show anyone else.

Jimmy sucks in his lower lip and looks up at Dean, “You got three more layers of serious business under those jeans, cowboy?”  His hands deftly unbuckles Dean’s belt and slips it out of the loops. Dean’s jeans slip down his waist about an inch or so.  Tuesday was laundry day, and he forgot he’d be at Jimmy’s the next night, so he’s currently going commando.

“Shit, hang on,” Dean says, stepping back and trying to keep a hold on his jeans.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Jimmy asks.

Dean shakes his head, “It was laundry day when I was in Nebraska, and I just tossed everything in the duffel and drove straight through after that.”  It takes a moment, but when he gets it, Jimmy smirks.

“Oh, did you? So you’re…Severely under-layering under those jeans, aren’t you?” he reaches forward and pulls Dean back between his legs.

Dean tenses up a bit and stifles a noise, “I, yeah. Just lemme—” But before he can say ‘Throw on some boxers,’ Jimmy pulls him closer.

“What if I don’t want you to?” Jimmy asks but his words are muffled because his face is pressed against Dean’s stomach.

Dean bites his lip, “I’d say I pro’lly should anyway? At least I should for tonight.”  He thinks he should be kicking himself because who turns down perfectly good ass they know is perfectly good? But, he isn’t kicking himself and Jimmy definitely isn’t a random piece of perfectly good ass.

Jimmy gently knocks his head against Dean’s stomach, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester, what with your insistence on sense making and the distinct lack of body ravishing.” He groans loudly and flops back on the bed.  “Go, protect your virtue, don some boxers, or tighty whiteys, or preferably a Speedo,” he gestures dramatically at the door that leads to the bathroom and covers his eyes with his other arm, “I will avert my eyes lest I besmirch your untainted flesh.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Ya jackass. I’m tryin’a be responsible here.” He grabs his jeans to hold them up and goes over to his duffel bag.  After a second of rummaging around, he comes up with a pair of boxer briefs, and some tape and gauze.   Then he ducks into the bathroom before Jimmy can see what all he’s taking with him.

When he comes back out, Jimmy lets out a wolf whistle and grins, “So, can I at least touch, even if I can’t have you right now?” Despite all his posturing, Jimmy waited until Dean was in the bathroom to change into a pair of soft looking pajama pants and no shirt. He’s also turned off the overhead light and switched on a bedside lamp.  Grinning, he makes grabby hands at Dean. Dean tosses the remaining tape and gauze into his duffel before he crosses over and drops onto the bed. 

Once on the bed, Dean rucks up his undershirt just a little to scratch at his stomach before rolling over to face Jimmy. “I…Sure. Just,” he winces, unnecessarily reminded that he still has a stitched up bite and a couple of scratches healing on his side, “It’s only been a week since I was with Bobby and John, so…” He trails off. Hopefully Jimmy will get what he is trying to say.

Jimmy’s eyes widen, “You got hurt?”  He pulls himself closer to Dean and gently nudges him over onto his back, “Let me see! Are you healing all right, do you need bandages or a compress—or anything?” He runs his fingertips just above where the outline of the bandage is under Dean’s shirt.

Dean shakes his head, “Took care of it; thanks.  It’s just a little tender.” Jimmy looks so worried, so Dean pushes up onto his elbow so he can lean over to kiss his cheek in reassurance.  “Part of the job,” he murmurs before laying back down.

Jimmy leans over him, a very serious expression on his face, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.  Where were John and Bobby when you were getting hurt?”

“Gettin’ hurt right next to me, Jim,” Dean says softly, “It wasn’t just…” He hates telling anyone very much about the hunts he goes on; he just feels like they always worry more than they need to.  Even Sam worries about him too much.  “I’m okay; Bobby only had to put in like eight stitches or somethin’ and he said they can come out soon enough.”

Before Jimmy can respond to that, Dean reaches up and cups Jimmy’s face in his hand.  “Can…Can I kiss you, Jim?” He doesn’t ask often with many people, but he always asks with Jimmy.

The other man nods. “Yes please,” he says, leaning down until their noses are almost touching.  Dean leans up the little bit he needs to and catches Jimmy’s mouth in a proper kiss.  The first proper kiss he’s had in at least a year, honestly.  After a minute, Jimmy makes a noise and Dean pulls back.

“S’wrong?” he asks.

Jimmy bites his lip and says, “Don’t know where I can put pressure without hurting you.” Dean smiles a bit.

“Anywhere but directly on my side; the scratches and bite didn’t get on my chest at all,” he replies.

“You got bit? Did you get checked? What if it had rabies? Can supernatural shit even get rabies?” Jimmy grabs at the hem of Dean’s undershirt and tries to pull it up.

Dean drops his hand on top of Jimmy’s and stops him, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay; Bobby and I’ve got street medic training, we both checked it out and I got a tetanus shot just in case.” He knows Jimmy is just concerned, but he really does hate taking off his shirt most of the time.  It’s just uncomfortable.  John’s drilled it into him that you don’t sleep in anything less than a shirt and shorts in case you have to split in a hurry, and you sleep in jeans whenever you can.  Plus, not all of his scars look like bites and scratches.  He isn’t really sure he wants to know what Jimmy would think of the new bullet hole in his shoulder, or the knife wound way too close to his heart.  At least he doesn’t want to find out tonight.  There will be time for that later, he’s sure of it.

“Okay,” Jimmy nods finally and unclenches his hand. “But, will you think about showing me? Letting me make sure it’s okay? I got my EMT certification last year; just in case I needed to get out of the restaurant business.” He’s going to school to be a telecommunications specialist, but Jimmy says he likes to keep his options wide open.  He’s worked at pet stores and massage parlors, and Dean vividly remembers the one summer he’d come out to see Jim and found him dancing at a local club on the weekends.  Now he’s a line cook at a local family style restaurant, but he’s had his eye on emergency medical services for a little while.  It amazes Dean, who’s only ever really felt like he’s good at hunting, that Jimmy is so good at doing so many different things.

“You did? Awesome,” Dean grins and threads his fingers between Jimmy’s, bringing one of his hands up to kiss the back of it.  He lays their hands on his chest and tugs Jimmy just that little bit closer.

Jimmy squawks and moves away, “Lemme get on your other side; I don’t want to hurt you.” He clambers on top of Dean and is moving to go over to the other side when Dean grabs his hips and holds him there.

“What about right here?” He teases, “Ya ain’t hurtin’ me none right there.” Dean squeezes Jimmy’s hips a little and Jimmy whimpers.

“Don’t tease, Dean Winchester,” he admonishes, planting a hand on Dean’s chest and leaning down to kiss him softly. “At least don’t tease when you know it’s not goin’ anywhere tonight.” Dean grins sheepishly and lets Jimmy finish crawling over him.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.  Before he can feel too bad, Jimmy presses up against his side and drags his arm around him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Jimmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dean’s shoulder, quite close to where his skin puckered and scarred after Sammy dug out a bullet last summer.  Dean tenses but then relaxes quickly.

“Okay; sleep Jim,” he orders sleepily, adjusting so he’s holding Jimmy more securely.  Jimmy adjusts so his head is pillowed just exactly right on Dean’s chest.

“Night, handsome,” he murmurs, reaching behind himself to turn off the bedside lamp.  Dean drops off to sleep without another thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wakes up with the feeling that someone is staring at him.  He blinks and turns his head and ascertains that he is, indeed, being stared at.

“I made coffee! I didn’t know how you took it, so it’s still in the pot, but it’s made!” Lys grins and sips from her own mug.  She’s managed to situate herself between Jimmy and Dean’s legs, sitting at the end of the bed with her legs tucked up underneath herself.

Jimmy makes garbled noises from somewhere just below Dean’s line of vision, “Lys nffrpm.”

Dean cocks his head and squints, “Nffrmp?”

“He means get the fuck out of my bed, I’m still sleeping,” Lys translates. “But, no, it’s almost ten, at least one of you should get up and cook me breakfast. It’s only polite.”

Dean starts to extract his arm from under Jimmy’s head; he’s awake now and he kind of likes cooking, so he doesn’t really see why he shouldn’t. But, Jimmy’s arm reaches up and clamps down on Dean’s.

“Mine,” he mutters and gets closer to Dean’s side. Lys giggles.

“S’yours?” Dean mumbles against the top of Jimmy’s head.  He feels Jimmy nod. “But I need it. And coffee. And maybe eggs,” Dean nudges the top of Jimmy’s head with his chin and Jimmy whines.

Lys sips her coffee, “Coffee’s good. C’mon Jimmy Jim, I’ll even make you a nasty sugary cup of the stuff.  But you gotta get up and let Dean up.”

“He still puts half a pound of sugar in his coffee?” Dean raises his chin up to talk over Jimmy’s head.

“It tastes better that way,” Jimmy grumps, “Doesn’t taste so much like shoes then.”

A loud smack sounds and Dean feels Jimmy jump. “James Novak, my coffee does not taste like goddamn shoes, you take that shit back,” Lys insists.

Jimmy just shrugs and tries to burrow closer to Dean. “C’mon, Jim,” Dean nudges him again, “Sooner we feed her the sooner she’ll leave you alone?”  He isn’t actually sure that’s entirely true, but he figures it is a fair assumption.

“No she won’t, she’s like a stray cat, feed her once and you’ll never get rid of her,” Jimmy says, finally sitting up.

“I also leave dead things on the porch and puke in your shoes if you piss me off, which you’d do well to remember, Jimmy,” Lys grins over the top of her mug.  “Good morning, starshine,” she chirps and leans forward to give Jimmy a noisy kiss on the lips.  Jimmy blinks and gropes for her coffee mug. “I wouldn’t do that, Jimbo, it’s not properly sugared,” she grins and somehow extracts herself from the bed without spilling or relinquishing the coffee mug.  Dean sits up and scrubs at his face with the palm of his hand.  He winces; he really should be more careful sitting up when his side is all fucked to hell.

“Aw, you both have severe bed head,” Lys coos from the doorway. “Come, feed me,” she insists loudly as she leaves the room.

Dean reaches up to try flattening his hair. “We should probably go feed her,” he mumbles.  Suddenly his lap is full of sleep warm Jimmy.  “Well, g’mornin’ to you too,” he grins.

Jimmy straddles Dean’s thighs and gives him a very serious look, “I’m not kidding about the stray cat thing.  We’re better off hoping she eventually fends for herself.  But, if you insist…” He trails off and then leans forward and kisses Dean.  “Ha! By the transitive property of kisses, you and Lys have now kissed.”

“Transitive properties don’t count, Jimmy!” Lys shouts from the vicinity of the kitchen.

“Damn it,” Jimmy pouts.  Dean can’t help himself; he wraps a hand around the back of Jimmy’s neck and pulls him in for another, slower kiss.

Then he pulls back and raises his eyebrow, “Why d’you want Lys and me to kiss?” Jimmy nibbles on his own lower lip and shrugs.

“We made a bet maybe?” He finally answers.

“A bet involving kisses?” Dean grins.

Jimmy nods, “I bet you two would kiss, she said that was an easy bet because she just wouldn’t kiss you…So I thought maybe the transitive property of kissing would help.  But she keeps changing the rules!” He leans back and shouts the last part toward the door.

“You never asked about transitive properties,” Lys shouts back. Dean winces again; they are really fuckin’ loud for so early in the morning.

“I’m hungry,” he announces.  Before Jimmy can say anything, Dean squeezes Jimmy’s hips and moves him off of his thighs, “And so I’m gonna go scavenge in your kitchen for breakfast.  You comin’?”  Dean slips out of the bed, grabbing his jeans off the floor and tugging them up over his hips as he goes.

Jimmy scrambles off the other side of the bed, “I could eat.” He stares sadly as Dean slides his belt back on and reaches for the button down he’d dropped near the chair. “So many clothes, so little skin,” he says mournfully.

“I ain’t gettin’ burning bacon grease on my stomach just because you’d rather see me cook naked,” Dean grouses.

“Fine, be that way and deprive me of the view,” Jimmy rolls out of bed and snatches the button down before Dean can put it on, “Dibs on the flannel shirt.” He grins and pulls it on as he slips out of the room.

Alyssa has some awful Top 40s song blaring in the living room when Dean gets to the kitchen.  He starts to complain, but then he sees Jimmy dancing by the stereo system and can’t help the smile that crosses his face. Instead of demanding they change it, he shrugs and pulls open the refrigerator.

“You got pancake mix or do I have to mix it myself?” He calls into the living room.  He digs out the eggs and cheese and milk before turning to set things on the counter. As he turns, Jimmy skids into the kitchen and slides across the linoleum in his socked feet until the counter catches him.

“Uh, I mean,” Jimmy leans against the counter and worries his thumbnail, his other arm propping up his elbow.  Dean smiles because they’re not that different, height wise, but Jimmy is still swimming in his button down. “We’ve got flour. And sugar. And baking soda,” Jimmy turns and pulls these things out of the cabinet as he names them, “But we don’t make pancakes all that often.”

Dean sets down the eggs and milk and crosses the kitchen to take the baking supplies from Jimmy. “This is good,” he says, stepping all the way into Jimmy’s space and backing out just before Jimmy can grab him, “Really.” He looks at the flour and the sugar in his hands and then back at Jimmy. “You wanna do this or you wanna do the bacon and eggs?” Dean asks.

Jimmy takes back the flour and sugar, “I’ll do the pancake mix. You man the stove.” He reaches up to open a cabinet door and grabs out a mixing bowl. Dean smacks his ass while he’s off balance and saunters back to the stove. “You cretin!” Jimmy squawks, shooting a glare over his shoulder before he starts measuring out the pancake ingredients.

After they eat, Alyssa clears the dishes and tosses everything in the dishwasher. “I’d actually do the dishes to show my undying gratitude, but I have to be at work doing the dishes in like twenty minutes,” she grins, winks at Dean, and ruffles Jimmy’s hair before taking off to her room. “Don’t leave town without letting me know, fucker,” she shouts before she shuts the door.

“So, I have my passport from when Alyssa insisted we go to Mexico over spring break,” Jimmy says, getting up and wandering over to the coffee pot. “Want another cup?” He shakes the pot and Dean nods.

“That’s good, I’ve still got the one Bobby had me make last year.  We got a call that a yeti had moved its territory too far South and East of the Yukon, so John, Sam, and I took a look over winter holidays,”  Dean holds his mug out and Jimmy tops it off. Dean’s side twinges and it must show because Jimmy narrows his eyes.

“You really ought to let me check that out for you,” he cajoles as he ruffles Dean’s hair.

Dean tries to move his head away and grunts, “Maybe later.”

Jimmy puts the pot on the table and slides back into his seat, “I’ll hold you to that, Winchester. Okay, so…Next question: where exactly are we going?”

Dean barks a laugh and sets his mug down, “Dude. On a road trip into Canada. I mean, we’ll make some stops along the way, kinda just where ever, but…Well, okay, there’s a park near Vancouver, and it’s basically in the middle of all of these awesome water features and I really think you might like it. So, that’s the end goal, get to Saltery Bay Park—if we want to. Or, just drive and see what the fuck we wanna see. If you’d rather go to Toronto or something, I’m down with that too. It’s just in the other direction. It kinda…Depends on how long you wanna be gone, you know?” Dean pushes his chair onto its back legs and drinks his coffee.

“It’s easy to forget I’m travelling with a professional road tripper,” Jimmy gives Dean a tight grin and traces a finger around the rim of his mug.

Dean worries his lip and sets his mug down, “Y’know, Canada—especially Saltery Bay—is kind of a big goal for a first road trip. What if we just go to Toronto and do the touristy thing and if you wanna we can hit some states on the way back?” He thinks this is the most planning for a trip he’s ever done.  Over the years, he’s gotten so used to either being with his family, who tend to pick up and goes on a moment’s notice, or with other hunters who are used to playing it all by ear, that he forgets not everyone can just up and go.

Jimmy smiles more brightly and pushes his mug away, “No, no. You owe me a road trip and you want to show me somewhere you’ve been. Let’s go to Saltery Bay.”

But now Dean’s hesitant, he doesn’t want Jimmy to over commit and hate it. “Look, I’ve been a lot of great places, Jim. I’d love to show you any of ‘em. I’m not used to planning a trip, is all. Generally…We just go,” he spreads his hands and puts his chair four legs to the ground.

“We could head for Saltery Bay and change course when we felt like it?” Jimmy offers.  He gets out of the chair and sits himself down on Dean’s lap. “This is new territory for both of us. You always go and I’ve never really gone anywhere. And now I get to go with you. So maybe I’m over thinking it.” Dean’s hands drop to Jimmy’s waist and he rests his head against Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Okay, Jim.  Let’s head for there and just see where we end up,” he smiles against Jimmy’s shoulder and drops a kiss on it.

Jimmy grins brightly and runs his hand up Dean’s neck and through his hair, “Sounds good to me.”

Dean drains his mug and puts it and Jimmy’s empty in the sink before turning around and leaning against the counter. “So, if we’re all settled up on where we’re goin’, when d’you wanna head out?”

“I dunno,” Jimmy shrugs and follows him, placing his hands on the counter on either side of Dean, effectively bracketing him in.  He leans in and kisses him before continuing, “I guess we could go tonight? I’ve already told my boss I’m taking an extended vacation.  She wasn’t thrilled but since I never take one, she’s dealing with it. Lys is going to take care of the apartment, so that’s covered, and I called momma to let her know last week.” He chews on his lower lip, “I guess I better pack, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles and shakes his head, his hands coming to rest on Jimmy’s waist, “I guess you better. I don’t think my clothes quite fit you.”  He holds up a handful of his button down as proof and Jimmy shrugs, smiling and stepping away.

“Well then!” He says, “I will go pack and then we…Can go get lunch at my job? So I can let Lys know we’re headed out. And then Canada or bust!” He pumps his fist in the air and Dean laughs out loud.

“Canada or bust,” Dean agrees, watching Jimmy head for his room.


End file.
